


Coming Back

by April_Valentine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angsting Daryl, Bottom Rick, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rickyl Writers' Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This episode tag for "Twice As Far" has Rick trying to help Daryl deal with yet another loss. Except Daryl doesn't want to be comforted.</p><p>In this universe, I'm assuming that Richonne does not exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Back

Rick turned from the bed where Eugene was resting, satisfied that he would recover from his gunshot wound. He was more concerned about the tense figure by the window.

“You okay?” he asked softly. 

Daryl flinched. It had been so long since Rick had seen that reaction, he hardly knew what to do. It was clear that Daryl was hurting badly, probably blaming himself for Denise’s death. He was holding himself still, arms wrapped across his middle, shoulders hunched, staring out the window sightlessly. 

“C’mon,” Rick said, keeping his voice low and gentle. “Let’s get out of here.”

“”M all right.” Tight, gruff. Said without looking at Rick.

“No, you’re not.” Rick hesitated, then gingerly put his hand on Daryl’s waist.

The muscles turned to steel at his touch, but he didn’t remove his hand. “There’s nothing more you can do here. Let’s go.” This time, he made his voice a bit more firm.

Daryl’s shoulders sagged then. He moved, striding toward the door on his own. Rick noticed the sympathetic gazes as he passed between their friends. He followed his lover outside.

The motorcycle was parked in front of the infirmary. Rick saw that the crossbow had been placed in the carrier Daryl himself had designed for it. Daryl stopped walking, just staring at his two possessions. They both meant a lot to Daryl, but Rick knew people meant more.

“Abe didn’t give me all the details,” he began. _Just that the guy who took your bow and bike was the one that shot Denise…_

“Shoulda killed him when I had the chance. Won’t fuckin’ make that mistake again.” The words were angry, bitter. Rick knew how much pain they concealed. 

“Let’s go home.” It was more like a plea than request.

Daryl dragged in a heavy breath. “Yeah. Okay.” He grasped the handlebars of his bike and began pushing it down the street toward their house.

Rick walked beside him, waiting. But Daryl had nothing else to say. 

When they got inside, Daryl stood for a moment in the entryway, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was doing there. He put the bow down against the wall, staring at it for a long moment. “Judith okay?” he asked finally. 

“She’s fine.” Rick ached to touch him but he sensed Daryl’s control was too brittle. 

“Carl?” Daryl asked.

“He’s doin’ good.”

Daryl nodded without looking at Rick. “Gonna take a shower.” The words were flat, toneless. He headed up the stairs without a backward glance at Rick.

Rick let him go. They all had faced so many losses, words of comfort seemed meaningless. They’d gone past the point of trying talk about these things. Rick knew it wasn’t good that they usually just kept their pain to themselves. He did it too. But he hated the thought of Daryl suffering in silence this way. 

Daryl felt things so deeply, had had so few connections in his life before this all happened. Losing any friend was hard on him. Rick knew he had been talking to Denise more lately and he sensed there had been something special forming between them. Now, as with so many of the tentative friendships Daryl had made, that was gone. 

He heard the shower come on upstairs, wishing he knew what to do to help this man he loved so much. Daryl didn’t like to be coddled or prodded to talk. Rick had seen him push away comfort with both hands too many times. Still, what hurt Daryl hurt him.

He went upstairs, finding a basket of clean laundry that someone, probably Carol, had put on his bed. He started folding the shirts and pants for something to do while he waited for Daryl. He got the whole basket finished and realized the shower was still running. 

He moved to the bathroom door, listening anxiously. Over the sound of the spray, he thought he heard a pained gasp.

Rick couldn’t take it anymore. He opened the door quietly, glancing inside. 

“Daryl? You’ve been in here a long time.”

He received no answer. Through the shower curtain he could just make out that Daryl seemed to be leaning against the wall of the shower, unmoving, head bowed.

Rick squared his shoulders. Even if Daryl might punch him for intruding on his solitude, he couldn’t stand by. He moved to the enclosure, reaching for the curtain, but spoke again first.

“Daryl. It’s me.”

No response.

Rick realized belatedly that there was no steam billowing from the shower. The hot water must be gone, leaving Daryl standing there under the cold spray. Rick moved to the other end of the tub, leaning down to cut off the water. Freezing droplets sprayed over his hands. 

He looked up. Daryl was pressed against the wall, his hair plastered over his face, mouth downturned, his expression broken. Shivers ran over his body but he didn’t even seem aware.

Rick grabbed a bath towel and reached for him. “Come on. Time to get out of here.”

Surprisingly, Daryl let Rick pull him out of the shower. He stood still as Rick dried him, shaking slightly, eyes tightly shut. Rick wrapped a dry towel around his shoulders, grabbing another to use for Daryl’s hair, when a strong hand grabbed at it, stopping Rick’s ministrations.

“I… reminded her of her brother.” The words were poignant, hopeless. “And she wanted to go with us cause I made her feel _safe_.” He bit off the last, clearly blaming himself for her death. “She was tryin’ to explain why she came out there, and insteada listenin’, I shoulda been watchin’ the trees –“ Daryl pulled out of Rick’s hold and slammed his fist into the wall. Plaster crumbled, sounding loud as it hit the floor.

“Daryl.” Rick moved to him, wrapping both arms around him from behind. “Don’t go hurting yourself now.”

Daryl looked at him, eyes wide and remorseful. “Why not, Rick? Why the fuck not? I should be the one – I let those bastards go, I let him take my bow and he came back to use it on someone we _need_ \--“ He punched at the cracked wall again. “Should never let her outside the fuckin’ walls!”

“Daryl! No.” Rick was losing control of the situation fast. He knew Daryl needed to let his feelings out but broken bones wouldn’t solve anything.

“It was her decision,” he said forcefully. “We can’t keep people prisoner here. They see us going out and they’re trapped behind these walls like it’s a prison. Their insecurities just grow in here. It’s not safe to go out but we can’t keep them wrapped in plastic…”

“What do you know?” Daryl snarled. “You’ve gotten so many people killed now, what’s one more?”

Rick’s heart constricted at the words. He knew Daryl was just lashing out, but the words were true. Rick’s decisions had cost lives. It didn’t mean he didn’t care though. It didn’t mean he didn’t live with their deaths on his conscience.

“You’re right. I’m not innocent.” He met Daryl’s accusing eyes. If the man needed to take his feelings out on him, Rick could handle it. “I wasn’t trying to justify it. But it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t shoot her –“

“It was my bow, Rick. I lost it, let some bastard take if off me. Let her leave the walls, let her get to me. Let my guard down while I was out there. Stupid – just so fuckin’ stupid!” He moved to hit the wall again, but his whole body sagged, his fist weakly sliding down instead of doing more damage, all the fight seemingly draining from him.

Rick moved in closer, wrapping careful arms around him, not entirely sure Daryl wouldn’t struggle against him even now. “I know. It’s awful. It sucks. We can’t make a move that doesn’t affect other people.”

Daryl leaned into him. Rick smoothed his damp hair out of Daryl’s eyes. “But we still care. We can’t turn that off.” He kissed Daryl’s cheek. “You once told me you were better on your own. But we know that’s not true.”

Daryl scoffed but slumped closer to Rick. He looked exhausted suddenly, wiped out. 

“Come on,” Rick said, stepping back a little but keeping hands on the other man. “Let’s get out of here.” He wrapped an arm around Daryl as he led him from the room and down the hall. Inside their bedroom, he pulled the covers down. 

“Get some rest,” he urged, easing his lover down. Rick toed off his boots and unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor. He unzipped his pants and slid out of everything but his boxers, crawling under the covers with Daryl.

“Middle of the day,” Daryl said grumpily. “Ain’t sleepy.”

Rick leaned over to kiss his lips. “But you’re tired. You’re hurting.” He kissed Daryl’s forehead, his eyelids. “I know comfort’s not something you like, but just let me hold you awhile, okay?”

Daryl heaved a sigh, but he didn’t disagree. He let Rick pulled him onto his chest, sighing as his head found it’s usual resting place on Rick’s shoulder. 

They lay quietly for awhile. Daryl remained tense even as Rick slowly stroked his shoulders and up and down his back. After several minutes of quiet, he pulled away, rolling over and facing away from Rick.

Undeterred, Rick turned onto his side and drew close to Daryl, fitting himself along the length of his body. Daryl drew a ragged breath, sounding as if he were trying not to cry. 

“Don’t think so much,” Rick whispered at his ear. 

“Can’t help it.” He gave a rough moan. “She meant somethin’, Rick. Can’t just forget.”

“I know.” Rick kissed along Daryl’s throat, his lips as tender as he could make them. “I just mean right now. There’ll be plenty of time to remember later on. We don’t forget them. Not any of them.”

Daryl shuddered in his arms. “Just for right now,” Rick repeated, nuzzling under Daryl’s ear. “Let me help you.” He slid his right hand down Daryl’s body, cupping his soft cock and stroking him, still gentle, hoping to distract him. “Let me make you feel good,” he purred, nipping at Daryl’s neck as he stroked him to hardness.

Daryl sucked in a breath, his hips rocking under Rick’s touch. His back arched. 

“That’s it. Let me give you what you need.”

Suddenly, Rick’s wrist was grasped in an iron hard fist. “No.” The word held finality. Denial.

“Baby, please,” Rick tried, “it’s okay. Let me…”

“Fuck, Rick -- just stop. I don’t want you to make me feel better. I don’t fuckin’ deserve to be treated like some precious flower. I don’t want _kindness._ ”

Rick let go of Daryl’s cock, lifting his hand as much as he could. Daryl let his wrist go.

“What do you want?” Rick asked, trying to understand. He certainly didn’t want to force Daryl especially when he was so upset. “I… just thought we could forget for a little while. But, I could just hold you…”

Daryl rolled over, fixing Rick with a hunter’s gaze. “You really want to give me what I want?” 

The menace in his voice sparked a response in Rick. “I’ll give you anything.”

Daryl reached out, grabbing Rick by his shoulders. He smashed their mouths together, bearing Rick onto his back. He slotted his knee between Rick’s legs, thrusting up against him, hard. 

Rick arched up into the pressure, out of breath, overwhelmed but aroused and ready to give Daryl whatever he asked, whatever he needed. His partner wasn’t often aggressive, yet right now, he was anything but the reticent, almost shy lover he had been when they first got together. Daryl was hard, decisive, boldly demanding response from Rick’s body. And he was getting it.

As Rick gasped for breath, Daryl broke the rough kiss, fastening his mouth over Rick’s throat, biting down assertively. His hand snaked between their bodies and he grabbed Rick’s boxers, lifting up enough to yank them down and off. He knelt up, and in a flash, wrapped the fabric around Rick’s wrists, tying them to the head of the bed. 

He stared down at Rick, his eyes glittering with want. Rick saw his desperation, the need to claim, to proclaim his life, to take what he needed and do anything other than passively accept comfort. 

“Go ahead,” Rick urged him, his body stretching wantonly beneath Daryl’s feral gaze. 

Daryl pounced. 

He fell over Rick, biting and licking hungrily along the man’s sprawled body. Rick closed his eyes, letting the sensations overwhelm him. His nipples were attacked, sucked to pebble hardness, licked and nipped. Then Daryl’s talented tongue painted a wet stripe all the way down Rick’s stomach, culminating in his taking Rick’s cock deep in his throat.

Rick’s hips jerked up, rolling into the suction, the heat, the hunger that was Daryl’s mouth. He felt like Daryl was about to swallow his soul, his entire being. He was starting to lose it, about to fall over the edge, when Daryl let him go, his cock straining but unfulfilled.

Daryl shoved Rick’s legs open further, tilting him up so he had better access. He licked down the length of Rick’s cock, his tongue washing over balls, perineum and finally wantonly rimming his ass. Rick yelled out, the pleasure washing over him, needing more, needing _Daryl_.

As Rick moaned brokenly, begging and cursing, he was speared by Daryl’s claiming finger, sliding into him, crooking and twisting. Soon joined by a second, the fingers inside him scissored, opening him hurriedly. Rick wasn’t resisting, but Daryl was insistent, not waiting for him. 

Daryl grabbed for the lube under the pillow, slathered it over his cock and Rick, then positioned himself. He paused, staring hard into Rick’s lust fogged gaze. 

“This is what I want,” Daryl ground out, as if daring Rick to deny him, as if he expected refusal.

“I know,” Rick answered breathlessly. “Take it. Take all of me.” He couldn’t move his arms but he jutted his hips upward, begging for Daryl to fill him.

Daryl plunged in, going balls deep in one seemingly endless stroke. Rick groaned out his pleasure, despite the slight pain of swift entry, lifting his legs to wrap them around Daryl’s waist.

It had been too long since they had done it this way, Rick thought as Daryl nailed his prostate. He cried out again, a broken off curse, feeling the thrusts not just in his ass but all through his lower body, arousal shooting through his system as he eagerly took all that Daryl had to give. 

Daryl fucked like he fought, like a warrior entering battle, fearless, taking no prisoners, never looking back. And maybe that’s why he needed this, Rick realized as Daryl pounded into him. He couldn’t accept gentleness now; comfort felt undeserved. It was easier to get out of his head this way, like taking an axe to walkers, like cutting down attacking wolves or menacing humans. But safer. 

And God, it felt better too. Rick moaned, lifting his hips up, tightening his legs around Daryl’s thrusting body. “Harder, Daryl,” he ground out. “Deeper! More -- give me more!”

Daryl leaned up, gripping Rick’s shoulders in firm hands, pinning him with hungry eyes, hips like pistons, body like a machine, running on the same endless energy that made him ready at a moment’s notice to hunt for food to sustain them, to push past any fatigue, any heartache, any failure.

“So good,” Rick moaned, knowing that as much as Daryl craved the physical release, he also needed to know that his hunger was normal, human, beautiful. “So good, Daryl. Give it all to me.” He would belong to this man forever, give him anything he needed or wanted, up to and including his life.

Daryl dropped one hand down to gather Rick’s erection, never losing his rhythm. He stroked Rick expertly, knowing how he liked it, pulling him right up to the edge and shoving him over. Rick froze as his orgasm rocketed through him, hips hitched up off the bed, back arched, arms yanking at the fabric binding his wrists. Daryl fell back over him then, thrusting erratically as, seconds later, he finished too, coming deep inside Rick’s body, making them one.

One handed, he reached to release Rick’s wrists from the boxers binding him, then collapsed over his lover’s body, shuddering in reaction.

Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl’s back, holding him close now, soothing his trembling, listening as what sounded like sobs broke from his throat.

“Daryl,” he whispered, stroking his head, “it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

The sobs quieted but Rick was sure Daryl was just holding them in. “Easy. It’s okay.”

Daryl’s fingers groped for one of Rick’s wrists, rubbing where the fabric had chaffed. “D’I hurt you?” 

“No. I’m fine,” Rick assured. “Liked you taking control.”

“Jus… “ Daryl drew a shaky breath, “didn’t want you to touch me. Couldn’t… just could take it.”

“I know.” Rick combed his fingers through Daryl’s still damp hair. “I know.”

“Sorry I said that to you,” Daryl said a moment later, his voice barely audible. 

Rick remembered but he knew it was the truth, he had caused other people to die. It weighed on him every day. Some of them had been people he cared about, the way Daryl had cared about Denise. 

“If I can’t hear the truth from you, who can I hear it from?” Rick responded. “It’s not what we say to each other, it’s what we don’t have to put into words.” He lifted Daryl’s head just enough to kiss him, hard, the way Daryl had kissed him. “Thought you knew that.”

“Musta forgot.” Daryl didn’t quite smile, but he looked more relaxed. He kissed Rick back, but softly this time. Rick closed his eyes, savoring the gentleness only he knew Daryl was capable of. 

“I’ll help you remember,” Rick promised, meaning the things they had promised each other without words. Then, thinking of Denise, of Beth, of Hershel and Merle and so many more, he added, “We’ll remember them all together.”


End file.
